Flatbacker \FLAT-back-er\ n. Someone who takes advantage of lying around, swilling beer, eating bon-bons and meeting the neighbors while Fantastic Man earns a living. She was a flatbacker. v. to lounge around without a care in the world except clean underwear in the drawers and cold beer in the fridge. She was drunkenly flatbacking.

Monday, February 25, 2013

Unrepentant Relaxation

The traditional alarm clock is not what wakes me from slumber here in Dakar. Instead, it's the sound of trips of goats demanding their morning feed. If this doesn't bring me to full alertness, the construction site across the "street" will come to life at 8 am to finish the job. I do thank them for waiting until the reasonable hour of 8:30 to turn on the cement mixer. . .

A herd of goats is called a trip. Really. I looked it up.

This has been in the works for over six months. Nothing happens fast here. . .

Breakfast is served individually and informally in the lounge. Croissants, jam, homemade breads and yogurt, fruit and my OWN pot of coffee make for a pleasurable way to greet the day. The relative coolness of the morning, vividness of blue sky, and friendly companionship of the fellow guests prolongs the interlude to mid morning.

Restaurant Fatou. Great place for an afternoon beverage or an evening meal.

I've been enjoying my time in Dakar. Not as a tourist, as I've not done or seen one thing touristical. Instead, it's been an excellent opportunity to just relax and enjoy my surroundings. So often when we arrive into a new country, I wear myself ragged trying to discover restaurants, watering spots, and things to do and see. Here, the blue waters of the North Atlantic, the laid back way of life of the local Senegalese population, the fresh and abundant seafood, idyllic sunsets and cold Gazelle beers have successfully slowed me down to a crawl.

Big ball of gas.

I always feel like somebodies watching me. . .

I like it. If I don't do another thing while I'm here besides hit the beach or stroll through the souvenir shops at the point, I will leave with no regrets. I arrived in Dakar with no expectations. No grand plan, no burning desires to see anything in particular. Mainly because I researched nothing before arrival. A few locals have asked if I've been to town yet. When I say no, they look alarmed. But, when I ask them why I should go? They have no answer. I've been to big, dusty African cities before. Besides the occasional interesting photo opportunity or old mosque, they typically consist of bad roads, hectic traffic, swarms of people, livestock, and concrete block buildings. In horrific heat. And dust. This trip? I prefer the pampered setting of our gorgeous hotel, low traffic, calling birds and constant crash of the surf to be my companions.

Evil Eye? Voodoo magic? Who knows.

Well, plus the goats and construction. Something needs to get me out of bed.

Who IS this DRUNK Idiot?

THE FLATBACKER Fantastic Man's work pays him to travel the world. He graciously takes me along for (most) of the journeys, and in turn I provide him with maid service, clean laundry, cold beer, and an adequate weekly allowance. . .

2 Big Fat Porkchops with asian coleslaw and garlic mashed potatoes from the Seoul Pub in Itaewon, Korea WARNING: THESE SUCK IT NOW. TOTALLY NOT THE SAME. I'm leaving this up because ONCE they deserved it, but no more.